Something Wonderful
by MyOwnLittleWorld
Summary: A series of stand-alone vignettes starring HarryGinny and RonHermione. PG, so there's in adult nearby when you start choking on all the fluff. (o;
1. Chapter One: Sweet ::RH::

**Disclaimer: The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this fic are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**_A/N: This particular chapter takes place summer after sixth year, but that doesn't go for all of them since these one-shots don't exist in the same universe, unless I say they do. I'll alternate between Ron/Hermione to Harry/Ginny, so if you like one pairing and not the other you can just find the ones you want. The weird indentions, as always, as well as missing end punctuation was my computer's or the site's fault. (o; I won't be adding on to this consistently, just whenever I feel a plot bunny coming on. I'm only going to ask once, because I don't want to be a pain, but please please please review. Cheers! MyOwnLittleWorld._**

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"No, no, _no, _you can't use the _liquid _measuring cup for flour," Hermione said indignantly, as though this misuse of kitchen utensils were a personal attack on her. With an impatient 'tut!' she yanked it away from Ron and set it safely inside her abnormally large apron pocket, where she had stowed all the objects she believed hazardous to the baking project. So far she had collected a wooden spoon, the 1/3, 1/2, _and_ 1/4 cups, as well as the silver ring, which held all of the measuring spoons.

"Come on 'Mione, if you're going to check, double check, _and _triple check every ingredient we throw in the bloody bowl, as _well_ as take away any part of the kitchen I touch, how do you expect us to finish this by tomorrow?" Ron said in an exasperated voice as he randomly poured some flour into the mixing bowl. He would have measured it, of course, but there wasn't anything left to measure it in.

"Aargh! Do you want this to be good or not? It would be just lovely if we showed up to Harry's first actual birthday party with no cake, wouldn't it? Honestly, our one contribution and you can't even manage to measure a cup of flour! And don't use that nickname on me."

Ron grinned. "Sorry, _Hermy, _I'd forgotten you'd liked Grawp's better_. _You are wrong though. I'm actually quite good at measuring." With that, he grabbed the white plastic cup from Hermione's hand, gauged an even unit of flour, leveled it off smoothly with a butter knife, and dumped it on top of Hermione's head, giving her the appearance of a frazzled snowman.

After she finished moving her mouth wordlessly, Hermione gave him her best pitiful look through her layers of now-white bushy hair. Then, before he could blink, she had stepped right in front of him, pulled out her wand, and muttered 'Accio eggs!' Two eggs hurtled towards her, but in the last minute before they hit her, she smiled and darted behind his tall figure. The eggs, not having time to turn, hit Ron in the chest one at a time with small, satisfying 'cracks!' He stared unseeingly at the wall for a moment before trying to speak.

"Bu--shirt--eg-- you--"

"I'm sorry Ron, I can't understand a word you just said. Could you please translate that for me?" Hermione gloated, looking all too happy with herself as she stepped out from behind him. Ron managed to get a grip. For the most part.

"You _hit _my brand-new _Chudley Cannons _shirt with _eggs_?" He said, very clearly. Hermione looked pleased that he had figured this out without her explaining it. He was bound to understand sooner or later.

"Yes, and _you _covered _my _newly-washed _hair_ with _flour. _Are we settled? I do think I got the worst end of the deal; I have to take another shower now, scourgify does terrible things to the hair." Under the mistaken belief that their brief war was over, she went back to measuring vanilla as though nothing had happened, her eyes barely visible through the white of her hair.

Ron had other ideas in mind. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of heavy cream. With one smooth motion, he swung the whole carton at her, letting the cream cover her almost entirely. Her hair now had the consistency of porridge which had been sitting out too long. How pleasant. Deciding that this last action called for desperate measures, she scooped some melted, still-warm chocolate out of the double-boiler and smeared it over his face and hair. He smeared right back.

Still not quite believing that they were making a mess of Mrs. Weasley's kitchen and not doing anything about it, she poured some powdered sugar over the chocolate. Realizing that he was about to retaliate with baking powder, she apparated outside the door, running towards the garden, yanking off her apron (which really must have been quite heavy by now), and casting scourgify as she went. She must have decided that she could handle the split ends, Ron thought with a grin as he watched her out the window for a brief second. Either that or she had realized that no amount of time in the shower could have rinsed away the baking ingredients that were caked on her skin and hair. Ron quickly performed the spell himself and apparated right behind her... or at least he tried to.

Hermione let out a small 'oh!' of surprise, not unlike the one she had uttered at the Department of Mysteries at the end of fifth year, as she realized that she was inevitably going to run into the tall, lanky figure which had just appeared with a pop and was now standing and looking wildly in front of him, still holding the baking powder in his right hand as Hermione unintentionally tackled him.

"Argh!" he said, falling to the ground dramatically with Hermione on top. As they both realized what had happened and began to laugh, Ron set the baking powder aside.

"I think we should call it a tie," Hermione said carefully, not making a move to get up. It was so comfortable, just lying there with his arm pinned underneath her-- if she moved the tiniest bit, she could almost pretend that he had put it there intentionally, not as the result of a bad apparating calculation on his part

"Are you taking the mickey? You looked completely worse than I did, and I had the last move and everything!" He shook the baking powder threateningly, but his voice was much softer, almost lazy, compared to his usual 'bickering' voice.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not." For the second time that day, Hermione couldn't believe she was reducing herself to these childish games, and for the second time that day she could care less.

"Did too."

"Did not. I do hope you know that you've still got a bit of flour on your nose."

"Did too. And you have chocolate on your cheek and cream on your lip."

Hermione temporarily forgot about their argument at this comment. "Where is it?"

"On your cheek and lip, just like I said."

"Yes, but _where _on my cheek?" Goodness, was he daft or did he just _enjoy _irking her? Perhaps it was a bit of both. Yes, that was the most likely answer.

"Would you like me to show you?"

"Please."

Instead of pointing it out to her, Ron carefully collected the chocolate on his index finger and put it in his mouth.

"Eew, Ron, that was just--" she was about to say 'disgusting' or 'revolting' or something of the sort, but all of the sudden his mouth was on hers, presumably to fix the cream problem, and when he broke the kiss she could only think of one word.

"Sweet."


	2. Chapter Two: Wet ::HG::

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Actually, I would own the plot, but as you'll soon see, that part of the story is strangely absent. Ho hum.

A/N: This chapter is somewhat pathetic... I wrote it quite a while ago, and was debating putting it up or not, but since I'm feeling guilty for not updating this or "Pains of Having a Conscience," I decided I'd try it. For some reason my writing feels like it's been going downhill instead of up lately, lol. Perhaps it's one of those "Has to get worse before it gets better" things. Also, this is something of a cliche, since there are so many 'rainy' stories out there, most of them better than mine. (See "Rainy Wedding" by On-A-Rainy-Day). Ah well. Review, please. Even if it's a flame. (You know I'm desperate now, lol.)

The sky was turning a cloudy gray, and students who had earlier been basking in the few solitary rays of sunlight were now filtering in to their common rooms, laughing and pushing playfully at each other as they slid into chairs around the fire. Even the fireplace seemed to realize the change in weather, as a bright, cheerful flame lighted itself in the neglected hearth. Only one student didn't seem to be enjoying himself, and it wasn't hard to guess whom. Ginny frowned at him, but he didn't seem to notice as he stared listlessly.

"Ron, Hermione, I'm going on a walk, will you come with me?" Ginny asked pleadingly.

"I'm really sorry, Ginny, I have to finish this essay. Why don't you ask Harry?" Hermione said absentmindedly, flipping through her book.

"I was planning on it, but he's a whole lot more likely to stop _moping_ long enough to accept if the two of you are going. If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly high on the list of the most influential people in his life," Ginny said, a bit bitterly. For some reason she had thought that, since she had actually put a stop, for the most part, on her crush on Harry, he would start treating her more like a friend. Instead, it had been getting worse. All he ever did when she talked to him now was mumble something indecipherable and look down at the floor. Honestly, the way he acted you would think she didn't exist.

Ron made a funny strangled noise in the back of his throat, which he seemed to have a habit of using when he was hiding something, and coughed to cover it up.

"I'm sorry Ron, are you catching a cold, or did you want to say something to me?"

_"Ron _didn't want to say _anything, _did you?" Hermione gave him a sharp glance, and Ron nodded. Ginny made a mental note to have a long talk with Hermione later.

"Fine then, thanks for your support. I'll go by myself with Harry." Ginny said, feeling another surge of annoyance.

"Alone with Harry? Bit of an oxymoron, that," Ron said. Ginny rolled her eyes and walked away, not even bothering to respond to the stupid comment. Let Hermione deal with him.

"Harry, earth to Harry, come in Potter."

"Hmm?" He snapped out of his reverie, bringing into focus two brown eyes, their brows furrowed in annoyance.

"I take it you haven't heard anything I've said in the last five minutes?"

"No," Harry said, looking at the floor again.

"Hmm. Okay. I'll ask you again. Do you want to go on a walk with me?"

Harry hesitated, looking as if he was having an inner conflict with his self, before muttering, "I've got some--"

"And don't give me that 'I've got some things that I have to get done,' speech in that pitiful, the-whole-world-is-against-me voice. If you don't want to go, just tell me.

Harry flushed. He was just about to say those exact words, and he suddenly felt extremely embarrassed and painfully immature, as though he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. He attempted to salvage his sentence.

"That wasn't what I was going to say." Ginny gave him a doubtful look. "What I was going to say was, I've got some things I _ought _to be doing, but I would _much_ rather go on a walk with you. Are Ron and Hermione going?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay," he said lamely, trying to conceal his thoughts. Ginny was going on a walk. Harry was going with her. Nobody else was coming with Harry and Ginny on this walk. Despite himself, the thought felt warm in his hollow stomach.

"Well, are you coming?"

Harry jumped tensely out of his chair and followed her. He had just observed the way she walked, as she crossed the room to the door. She moved gracefully, almost cat-like, stepping with almost all of her weight on the balls of her feet and pointing her toes delicately. It was strange, he thought, staring at her as he elicited a few more snickers from those who had already noticed them leaving together, that she had just started walking like that now. Or perhaps he'd just never thought to look before.

They stepped into the Great Hall, and were just about to go outside when Harry pointed up. "It's raining," he said, indicated the stormy ceiling. Ginny nodded.

"So it is".

"Do you still want to take a walk?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

Harry decided that it would be more than a bit stupid to say "Because it's raining," so he closed his mouth.

There were a few minutes of silence before Ginny spoke again. "You know, I knew a girl who had a crush on you."

"Really?" Harry asked, somewhat interested although he had no idea why she was bringing this up.

"Yes. She doesn't anymore though, you know why?"

"No idea. Have I become any more daft or ugly over the summer?" A rather pitiful attempt at humor.

_"No, _Harry, it's because she's decided you're too dark for her. She used to love watching you smile but now all you do is brood. I bet you can't even remember the last time you laughed like you meant it. She needs someone who isn't afraid to have fun, who isn't scared to love, or do something out of the ordinary to be happy. You have no variety in your moods at all. Becomes quite boring to watch all the time, I expect," Ginny said conversationally.

"Oh." Harry didn't know how to respond to this. The conversation came to a sudden halt as they stepped outside. The rain was pouring in thick, heavy torrents, each raindrop hitting the ground with the tiniest splash. He turned to glance at Ginny, who, to his surprise, was grinning happily. He couldn't imagine why.

"Oh, come on Harry, you can't always be such a pessimist." She was now peeling off her shoes and socks, revealing shimmering pink polish, which twinkled with a million tiny stars. He stared, mesmerized for a second before glancing back up. She smiled again.

"I know you can't stare at my feet all afternoon," she teased. "Are you coming or not? We can race."

With that, she sped across Hogwarts lawn, her long hair flying behind her. Harry shook his head mentally, but dashed after her, putting his years of running from bullies into use. She was fast, much faster than he had expected for somebody with her tiny form, but he reminded himself that he had been the same way.

They finished running the length of the castle at the same time, and Ginny collapsed giggling on the wet grass. Harry stayed standing and pulled off his soggy, waterlogged sneakers and socks. At least, he was standing until Ginny grabbed him by the ankles so he fell on his bottom with a noisy grunt of surprise.

"What'd I ever do to you?" he asked weakly as his robes grew even wetter from the ground.

"You were a bit dry for my taste," Ginny said. She laughed and rolled down the hill, a blur of color through the pounding rain. Harry was about to shake his head and walk down after her, but something she'd said earlier stopped him. _She needs someone who isn't afraid to have fun, who isn't scared to love, or do something out of the ordinary to be happy. _It wasn't quite true, he thought to himself. He had fun, he had fun doing Quidditch... that was something he loved to do...

_Anything else? _He probed into his mind. He liked being with Ron and Hermione-- but no, Ginny was right. He couldn't remember the last time he had been truly glad, the way Ginny was almost all the time. Bracing himself, he crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and began to roll. The grass smelled sweet and fresh, and the rain fell harder than ever as he gathered speed. When he got to the bottom he stood up, swaying as he tried to see through his glasses, which by now were sprinkled with droplets of water and flecks of grass.

"Ginny," he called suddenly, thinking back. She turned around and looked at him inquisitively.

"Do I know the girl?"

She looked as though she had been expecting the question. "Yes, for the most part."

"Do you reckon she'll give me a chance to know her better? If I show her that I can act different?" Harry wasn't sure why he was asking this... what was he hoping to accomplish, except to make a fool out of himself?

Ginny looked at him thoughtfully though, considering for a few moments before responding. "I think she'll take my word for it that you already have," she said quietly. Her fiery hair was clinging to her head now, and a drop of water was steadily making its way from her forehead to the tip of her freckled nose. As if by a mutual agreement, she pulled off his glasses with her index and middle finger and wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry twirled a strand of her sopping hair around his hand as the other nervously circled her waist... and suddenly they were much nearer than a few seconds ago...

Something changed about Harry that night. Yes, he still had three essays he hadn't started on, he still missed Sirius, and he still knew that he would have to either murder or be murdered by the most feared wizard in history

But he was happy. And for the moment, that was quite enough for him.

_ "Well?" Ron asked finally, looking up at Harry. "How was it?_

_ "Wet," he said truthfully._

_ -Order of the Phoenix, Page 458, American Edition_


End file.
